


The Armor We Wear

by Timeproof



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-03-05 15:06:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18831121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timeproof/pseuds/Timeproof
Summary: "You came to King’s Landing to be married, and so you shall. If not to me, then to my sworn shield"





	1. Chapter 1

Despite the tears hanging in Sansa’s eyes, her vision remained sharp on the crossbow Joffrey kept aimed at her. Her knees ached from the solid marble floors of the throne room. Her ribs felt worn from the sobs that convulsed through her as she continued to plead,

“Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done I had no part, you know that, I beg you _please_ -“

“Ser Lancel, tell her of this outrage” Joffrey cut her off, completely ignoring her cries and choosing to place his focus on the knight behind her.

“Using some vile sorcery-“ Sansa turned her head to Ser Lancel who was strutting around with a hand on his sword handle. His accusations against Robb had the court moving back with gasps. Some were looking down at her with a hint of fear in their eyes, afraid she may turn into the monstrous wolf. Others looked down at her with clear disdain.

_Army of wolves?_

_Of course, they eat flesh in the north! How else did you think they could survive during the long winter._

_Treasonous murderers!_

They were all convinced of the blatant lies made against the north, against her family. When the self-important knight was finished spinning his tale, Sansa turned back to stare helplessly Joffrey and his crossbow.

“Killing you would send your brother a message…” Sansa continued to shake from her violent sobs. At this point she couldn’t make a distinction between the sobs she forced upon herself, hoping someone would take mercy on a crying girl, and the sobs that shuddered through her from fear. The sight of the loaded weapon became too much for her, so she focused her blurry eyes on the floor as her tears continued to spill.

“But my mother insists on keeping you alive. Stand.”

 _The Queen_. Sansa knew the dreadful women had no love in her heart for her. Despite their seemingly pleasant interactions, Sansa knew what venom hid behind the Queens words and glances.

She carefully rose from her position and forced her eyes upon the King as he laid down the cross bow. “So, we’ll have to send your brother a message some other way.” He leered at her taking his seat on the throne. The amusement gleamed from his eyes as he shifted in his seat, getting comfortable for the upcoming show. “Dog.” He called simply.

Sansa couldn’t stop the genuine gasp that escaped her mouth. Quickly, she planted her stare on the broad figures chest, waiting for it to move. He was always dressed head to two in dark armor. Sansa wondered if he preferred the black for its intimidating look, or if the color helped hide the stains of blood that must cover the man.

She had witnessed the viciousness that the man was capable of. During the last tournament, he had struck a man over a wall and had sent him plummeting to his death without so much as breaking a sweat. Sansa knew with one good punch he could easily snap her neck.

She shut her eyes and held her breath waiting. After a second she tensed her entire body in preparation. After another second of holding herself ready and nothing happening she began to open her eyes. He hadn’t moved.

“Dog! Did you hear me!”

“I heard you,” He drawled. Curious, Sansa forced her stare from his chest onto his face. It was an ugly face. Half of him was marred by warped pink skin. He was twisted to look like a monster by a horrific childhood burn. When he appeared in court, like today, she noticed his attempt to cover his scar by combing black hair over it. But the scar was too big to be hidden. Usually the sight of his scars was enough to make her flinch. Today Sansa was more struck by his eyes and the unreserved glare that burned through her. “What would you have me do your grace?”

Had he been waiting for this moment? Until this point he had never laid a hand on her. Joffrey had always given the task to Ser Meryn instead of him. Joffrey settled back into his throne and stared at his dog glaring at the meek Stark girl. The court was held in suspension as the King took his time assessing the perfect torture for her. Despite his young age and foolish decisions, Sansa knew not to underestimate his ability and desire to break people. Her stomach turned over as a slow grin pulled at the corners of his lips, his method of torture carefully decided.

“I would have you marry her.”

For a second the throne room was silent and Sansa could feel herself unlatching from the moment. Her body was numbing as her mind wondered around the throne room hearing the delayed gasps from the court and seeing herself as they must see her. Poor girl. Another Clegane bride, another body to bury.

She had heard the stories of course. Just as everyone else in King’s Landing had. Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that rides, had killed his three wives. The longest marriage only lasting a year. No one knew exactly how the women were killed, but the rumors flew around nonetheless. Choked during bedding. Stabbed for a less than satisfactory meal. Drowned in the water basin for an untidy room. Tied up and left to starve. Throat slit, just for the fun of it.

Although the younger Clegane has never married, it’s expected his wife would end up bloodied and broken like his brothers. The two were already so similar in their bloodlust during battle.

After another second Sansa’s panic snapped her back into her body,

“No!” The cry ripped out of her, and she could feel her eyes unwillingly begin to swell. But she couldn’t let herself become a sobbing mess. She had to play her cards carefully and not let her emotions lead.

“No?” The King challenged. She took a short shaky breath.

“I beg pardon your grace. I only protest due to my promise to you. I have sworn my love to you, your grace. Remember our betrothal.” She kept her voice as steady as she could, but could still hear herself wavering.

Joffrey began to laugh. It was an ugly sound. He looked down upon her as he abruptly ended his mirth,

“Unfortunately, _my love_ -“ he bit out the words “- I find myself unable to see our betrothal through. First your traitorous father, and now your brother! It’s clear to me that the Stark bloodline is tainted. I won’t have my first born given to me by a Stark cunt!” He spat out. “However… you came to King’s Landing to be married, and so you shall. If not to me, then to my sworn shield. What say you dog?”

The man dragged his blunt stare along her body. After his assessment he huffed,

“Your grace. The girl hasn’t even flowered yet. I’ve no need for her.” The Hound said uninterested. The court murmured behind her, thrilled by the Hounds rejection of her.

_Even the dog won’t take the scraps_

“You’re right dog. What use is a bitch if she can’t produce a litter?” Joffrey sneered, clearly pleased with his own word play. “We’ll wait then. Sansa, how do you find your new betrothed?”

It was over. Her courtesies would not be able to save her after Joffrey made his final decision. All she could do was continue playing the game, despite the rules changing on her.

“I am sad to lose your grace as my betrothal but I’m honored by your decision for me.” She had become skilled in her manicured replies to Joffrey. Choosing words that couldn’t inspire new harm against her. Joffrey simply nodded at her words and quickly grew disinterested with her submissive reply.

“Dog, see your lady back to her chambers,” practically rolling his eyes as he slouched in his chair. He was done playing for the day.

The Hound made his descent towards her. Sansa wasn’t prepared to meet his glare again. Desperate for somewhere else to look, she settled her gaze on her clasped hands. They were not shaking like she would’ve expected them to.

“Let’s go girl.”

She raised her head high enough give a week nod and followed him out of the throne room.

\---

 

They walked side by side in silence. Sansa could not get a proper reading on her new betrothal.

He was angry. That she was certain of.

She could see it from how he walked by her. He stomped his feet into the hard castle ground, but instead of slouching like an unhappy child, he kept his posture stiff. His arms ended in tight fists and his back remained ramrod straight. She struggled to match his long strides as he charged through the castle halls.

She was uncertain of how to approach his anger. Her silence was not working, but she feared that she might say something wrong and accidently provoke his barely contained rage. What would a man like the Hound want her to say?

She had no clue.

Not willing to risk the wrong move, Sansa remained silent until they reached her door. She walked into her doorway and finally turned to address her betrothed.

“Thank you, my lord. I am happy to be promised to you-“ She stopped as two crushing hands landed above her elbows. His harsh fingers dug into her soft arms and she began to squirm way from his grasp.

“Do you think I’m stupid girl?” He snarled, his face only inches apart from her as he towered over her. “Think I might believe your little courtesies? Or do you think your empty words mean anything to me? Think I might like to hear you lying through your teeth about how _happy_ you are to be with me?” She could feel his warm breath fan over her face. Sansa had made the wrong move, but she wasn’t sure how. Her words had been kept simple and sweet. Yet he still managed to find something in her speech offensive.

Sansa stuttered, completely unsure of what to say next. To her luck, the Hound didn’t seem to actually care for an answer. He let go of her shoulders, the sudden relief of pressure causing her to stumble a bit. As soon as she gathered herself, Sansa shuffled behind the doorway quickly pushing it closed. Before she could, a booted foot blocked her.

“I don’t care for your songs little bird. Remember that next time.” He said before removing himself.

Sansa shut and barred her door. She pressed her ear to the wood and listened for as the heavy footsteps got further and further away. Only when she couldn’t hear them anymore did she remove herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So I took the liberty of taking away the underage tag and just decided to age up Sansa because I would've felt weird to continue if I didn't. But nothing else has changed, her characterization and storyline is unaffected by her added years.

That fucking Imp thinks he so smart

  
Sandor clutched his fists at his side as he cursed Tyrion Lannister to the seven hells for thinking it was a good idea to give his sadistic nephew whores as a gift. From his guard position, he could hear the cracks of skin as the blows continued to land, the grunts of pain, and the tears coming from the pretty girls who had been giggling only moments ago. Tyrion thought a good fucking might ease the boy away from his cruel nature. If he had a whore to warm his bed perhaps he would be less of a right bastard. How wrong could one half man fucking be.

  
Still, it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been Sansa in there. This could’ve been what her wedding night would’ve been like. Pain and terror from a boy who thinks sitting on the throne makes him a king and carrying around a crossbow makes him a warrior. It was a far cry from the soft touches and whisperings of sweet nothings the lady might have expected from her songs and stories.

  
At least I could spare her this, he though bitterly as another cry rang through the air.

  
Married to Sansa fucking Stark. How the hells did it come to this.

  
He never wanted to take a wife. Never felt the need. He had he kitchens to cook his meals and had enough coin to pay for a whore whenever he felt like it. He didn’t give a fuck about love. Simply because it wasn’t real. It was just another fairytale that simpleminded girls kept close to their heart. Hoping one day they’ll find true love with some true knight. What a bunch of horseshit.

  
And now he was to be married, by order of the king. To Sansa Stark.

  
She was… he didn’t even know where to begin in describing her.

  
Pretty. The little bird was certainly pretty. With her long auburn hair that looked soft as silk, and clear blue eyes that remained beautiful despite being constantly clouded by tears.

  
Brave. She had to be considering she was forced to be in close quarters with the people who clipped off her father’s head right in front of her. It was a wonder how she still managed to hold her head high in these hallways.

  
But above all she was innocent. Probably still waiting for some knight in shining armor to whisk her away. Probably still believed in such a thing as love. It should have been an enduring quality, one a man would want his lady to have. But it made Sandor angry to think about.

  
How, after all this time spent here, was she able to remain so damn innocent? So fucking polite!? Even to the likes of him.

  
Her innocence was a damnable thing. He hated it. Even still… it wasn’t his to ruin. He didn’t want it. Didn’t want any of it.

  
People considered him a lucky man. It wasn’t often someone as ugly as him could have someone as beautiful as her. She was his prize and he was meant to ruin her. Break her into an obedience. Lock the pretty little thing away somewhere and keep her as a toy.

  
But he wouldn’t do that.

  
Part of him was tempted. As anyone would be. He thought how nice it would be to have his little bird trapped in his rooms. He could come to her in the night as often as he liked, have her soft little body under his whenever he liked. She wouldn’t like it though. That he was certain of. Who would? A face as ugly as his looming over you in the dark, all sweaty and dumb from pleasure. He had rough hands and rough manners, nothing about him was easy to like in bed. Even the whores didn’t like him. They fawned over him as best they could whenever he visited, he always paid well. But they struggled to keep up the façade once he was over them. Their eyes would search for anything but his. Some just shut them all together, feigning that they were overtook by pleasure, but he knew better than to believe that. Eventually he would just turn them on their stomach. It was easier for both of them that way.

  
Would she pretend to want him like the whores did? Would she chirp away in their bedroom just as she did in court? Using her words to try and appease him all the while loathing his existence. The thought made him angry. He didn’t want her constant little lies.

  
He was trying to stall the wedding as best he could. Although she had the curves and smarts as a girl her age of eight and ten, he knew she hadn’t flowered yet. It had been a safeguard against her and Joffrey being married, and now it was his as well. He hoped that perhaps it wouldn’t happen at all. A woman who never flowered wasn’t unheard of, although rare. Considering she was already so old, maybe she never would. It wouldn’t stop the marriage forever, but it gave him enough time for chance. Perhaps there would be an exchange for the kingslayer. Perhaps they’ll all be killed by Stannis. It didn’t matter to him which came first.

  
“Dog!” The boy opened the door to his chambers and the two tear-stricken whores scurried out with their heads down. “See that my gift is returned to my uncle. That’ll be all.” Without another word, he went back into his rooms and barred his doors.

  
Sandor looked at the two girls staring hopelessly at the grounds.

  
“Come on. It’s over now.”

 

\--

 

The morning light stretched lazily across Sansa’s room. She hadn’t moved from her bed yet, choosing to bask in the stillness little longer. The early morning were Sansa’s favorite times here. She was alone and undisturbed. Allowed to think and breathe freely before being thrown back into the oppressive environment of Kings Landing. It was the closest she got to peace here.

It broke the second she heard her handmaidens knock.

“My Lady Sansa?” Shae’s voice carried through her bedroom door. Usually Shae was free to just enter, Sansa had almost forgotten she had barred her door the night before.

“Just a minute,” She wistfully made her way at pf the comfort of her bed to let in Shae.

“Good morning my lady.” Shae regarded as she stepped into her chambers.

She was a peculiar handmaiden. Certainly unlike any Sansa has had before. It annoyed her at times, how awkward her interactions with Shae could be. Sansa didn’t want to tell her what needed to be done, she just wanted her to do them. It sounded ridiculous even in her head, but her politeness had been stretched thin since being in Kings Landing. Usually she would have the patience for a confused handmaiden, but these days she had to place her careful patience elsewhere.

Whilst Sansa thought to herself as she wondered back to sit on her bed, she noticed Shae hadn’t moved or spoken since her greeting. She looked towards the mysterious handmaiden and met her dark assessing eyes.

“What is it?” Sansa asked feeling uncomfortable by Shae’s appraisal.

Shae continued to stare a second longer before turning to close the door and approached Sansa on sitting her bed. Up close Sansa could see the worried creases in Shae’s forehead and the concern in her eyes.

“Are you all right?” The question struck Sansa as dumb for a second. It had been a long while since she had heard those words in a genuine fashion. “I heard about what happened in court yesterday.”

Sansa cringed at the memory. She had not forgotten the past days events. She had not forgotten her new betrothed. The tops of her arms were still a little sore from where he had grabbed her last night.

Sansa didn’t know what to think, she had no idea of how she should act in front of him. Her presence was enough to anger him and when she spoke she had sent him into a quick rage. She was at a complete lost.

Shae took Sansa’s silence as an admission of sorrow and took her hands holding them in her lap.

Sansa was worried. She was just beginning to understand the cruel ways of Joffrey. She tried to understand what could set the boy off and what might soothe his temper. As horrible as it was, she had a small understanding of what it might be like to be married to him. She didn’t have such an understanding with her new betrothed and that worried her.

“Shae may I ask you something? And do you promise to be honest and not spare me of upsetting information?” Sansa asked squeezing her handmaiden’s hands.

“Of course.” She saw no reason to mistrust Shae. Odd as she was.

“What do you know about the Hound?”

Shae wasn’t taken back by the question at all. She almost looked like she had been expecting it. She straightened her spine and turned closer towards Sansa, not letting the question sit in silence for long.

“I know he is a killer. I know he has killed all sorts of people. Not just men, but women and children as well. I know he frequents the street of silk often on his time off, but not often for whores. It seems he prefers drinking to fucking. And I know he hates liars.” Shae said looking at Sansa pointedly.

“What would you have me do then? Tell him I’m afraid of him and would never willingly be his wife? If I had the chance I would never look at his deformed face ever again?” Sansa sputtered out frustrated.

But Shae was again calm despite Sansa’s unrest. “No,” she said simply waiting for Sansa to meet her eyes again “I would have you be more convincing.”

Sansa retracted her hands from Shae’s grip, taken back by her words.

“But how?”

“Start by dropping the courtesies when you are around him. He knows you are miserable in Kings Landing, we all do, so don’t pretend like you are happy and simpleminded. The best way to lie is by sticking as close to the truth as possible.”

“But if I’m telling the truth, how am I lying?”

“That comes in time…” She looked away lost in a daze for a second before continuing. “You have to find the right lies. Every man has a weakness, it is your job to exploit it. You can use him Sansa. He has been a loyal dog to the Lannister’s almost his whole life. Find a way to make him loyal to you.”

“The Hound has no weakness.” Sansa muttered dejectedly, but Shae only raised her eyebrows.

“You’d be surprised… Even the hardest of men have something soft in their heart.”

Sansa felt something warm rise in her chest for the first time in a while. A small spark of hope. Shae was right, and although Sansa was unsure of her abilities she was determined now. She saw Shae give her a small smile as she rose from her spot next to Sansa.

“Thank you, Shae.”

 

\--

 

The next time she saw the Hound, it was midday and Sansa was on her way to the Godswood when she saw him in the corridors hallway. He was walking in her direction and she could tell by the way he began to scowl that he had seen her. As they drew nearer to each other Sansa remained quiet, tampering down the urge to give him a polite good afternoon or some sort of greeting. She wasn’t thrilled to see him, so why greet him?

They stopped in front of each other. The silence was oppressing and it was tempting to break it, but Sansa refused as she recalled Shae’s lesson. The Hound stood a good foot above her head. His eyes challenged her to speak ad he glared down at her. Sansa steeled herself to not flinch away from his dominating gaze.

“What? No words for your promised? You aren’t going to tell me how happy you are to see me?” He spat at her, cruelly teasing at the words she spoke to him the other night. When she didn’t say anything, he took a step closer to invade her space and finally her gaze faltered. “Perhaps I frightened the little bird last night. Did I ruffle your feathers little bird?” He said taking another step and rounding around Sansa until her back was against the wall.

“Please don’t come any closer.” She said as he began to take another step that would have trapped her completely. His movements faltered for a second, and Sansa might have believed he would listen to her. But then he took a long stride and trapped her against and placed his hand next to her head, caging her in with his arm. She ducked her head down until her chin rested on her chest and she closed her eyes. Thinking he may hit her for a second.

“Why not?” His voice was a rumbling growl. She knew he was close but refused to move her face to look at him.

Stick close to the truth.

“Because I don’t want you to be near me.” She felt strong for her truthful admission but her voice came out as a soft whisper.

His hand fell from its spot by her head. A second later she heard him move a step back. He was still close, but she wasn’t trapped by him anymore. Finally, she looked up to see him staring at her. Surprise flashed across his face, but he remained angry.

“And why’s that?” He demanded

She continued to stare at him for a second, searching his face.

“Because you do frighten me.” She admitted finally.

Her admission hadn’t softened anything in his features. He still looked angry and his glare continued to burn through her. Maybe she should have lied. She had made it worse. She tore her eyes away from his gaze once more, thinking what lie she could spin to appease his growing rage. But before she could think of anything, he turned around and left her against the wall unharmed.

She watched his retreating form down the hallway. Willing him to continue on without looking back at her. He never did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This is the bread riot chapter which mean it contains an attempted rape. Head the updated tags.

Sansa hadn’t spoken to the Hound in a week since the incident in the hall. She had seen him a few times on his patrol duty around the castle, but he no longer approached her. If anything, he avoided her.

 

On one instance Sansa had been walking down the hallway alone, much like she had a week ago. She saw the Hound ahead of her, it was hard to miss his broad frame and the familiar thumping as he walked. Even walking through a castle, he carried himself like a man off

to battle. Perhaps he was.

 

He had saw her. Of that she was certain. They were the only two in souls in the hall, yet he kept his eyes averted from her. Vacantly staring ahead completely unbothered by her presence. It didn’t stop Sansa’s stomach twisting nervously in knots as she passed him. Afraid that at any point he would look down upon her and grab her when she least expected it. But he never did. She passed by him like ghost.

 

Today she would see him again, it was unavoidable. The whole court was required by the sea, to watch Myrcella be sent away.

 

Shae soon arrived in her room to prepare her for the day. Sansa couldn’t hide her nervousness in front of her, Shae’s watchful eyes caught everything.

 

“Stop fidgeting my lady,” She said as she delicately spun Sansa’s hair into an elegant southern up-do.

 

“I can’t help it,” Sansa muttered half to herself. She didn’t understand where her nerves were coming from. She had been in Kings Landing long enough to stop worrying like a restless little girl. Every day she tried to wake up with nerves of steel to protect her from the onslaughts of the day. But something in her intuition told her the day held something grim for her.

 

Possibly seeing Joffrey again since court had shot her nerves. Would seeing her make him rethink his decision to give her away? Or maybe it was the Queen Sansa feared to see. She knew that despite all the wickedness the women had in her heart, she cared for her children above all else. Sansa feared that seeing one of them slip away from the Queen would inspire some cruelty towards Sansa. The Queen would only lash Sansa with words, but they would burn in her heart for days to come. The women knew where to strike.

 

Or maybe it was the Hound after all. She knew his indifference towards her could last only so long. When he turned his attentions toward her, she feared it would be worse than before. She had to be ready in her interactions with him.

 

Sansa knew after her admission to him that Shae had been right. She couldn’t approach him the same way she did Joffrey. He could smell her lies, like the dog he was. It paid well to be truthful with him.

 

Truthful enough…

_You have to find the right lies. Every man has a weakness, it is your job to exploit it._

 

Shae’s words still run in Sansa’s head. Did the Hound have a soft spot amongst his rough demeanor? Something Sansa could use to her advantage? She had not found it yet… but the more she thought about the more she knew it must be true. There must be some weakness in the Hound. She just had to keep searching. Which meant she would need to interact with him… she wasn’t looking forward to that.

 

Shae had just finished putting in the last pin when a harsh knock pounded on her door.

 

“I will get that,” Shae said leaving Sansa’s side. Instinctively Sansa knew who was behind the door before Shae reached it. The knowledge sent her fingers to twitch and fidget with one another.

 

“I’m here to escort the girl.” came his gruff low voice sounding almost bored at the idea.

 

“The girl has a name.” Shae replied sharply before Sansa could get up from her seat. Shocked at her handmaids reply Sansa hurried over and stepped between her friend and the Hounds blazing glare. Shae was to bold for her own good.

 

Sansa dared to look up at the man in her doorway. It was easier to study his face when his eyes weren’t burning through her. He kept his glare leveled at Shae, the muscle in his jaw tensed as if he were clenching his teeth.  His eyes narrowed once more before he turned back towards Sansa, “Let’s go.” He growled.

 

Wordlessly, she followed a step behind him. She couldn’t hope to keep up with his long strides, and he didn’t seem interested in moderating his pace for her.

 

“When we are wed you can sure as hells count on getting a new handmaid,” He bit out in front of her.  

 

“I would rather not,” Sansa surprised herself by replying to him. She knew he didn’t expect her to say anything in return, much less defy him. “I like Shae. She is a good companion to me.”

 

He began to slow down his pace, allowing her to walk by his side easily. “What’s so _good_ about her then, if you’re so key on defending her.”

 

“She’s blunt, and she doesn’t try to fawn over me like the rest of the handmaids might.”

 

A rumbling noise broke from his chest. It took a moment for Sansa to register the noise as a deep chuckle. His lips tugged at the corner of his ruined face. It was the first time Sansa had seen him smile. The motion brought a glint to his usually hateful eyes, and softened his features. Sansa felt herself relaxing at the odd sight.

 

“Aye blunt… that she is.”

 

They didn’t talk the rest of the way to the sea it was a rare comfortable silence. She felt some calm understanding form between them. It would be a pity to ruin it by speaking.

 

\--

 

Watching the Princess cry as she had been sent away brought no joy for Sansa. She had only a few conversations with the girl, and she was so young. She reminded Sansa of her former self sometimes. Back when she was betrothed to Joffrey, the Myrcella loved to speak of the wedding and the fine little details. A royal wedding was every little girl’s dreams. It had been Sansa’s once. Then it became her nightmare.

 

No. It brought her no joy to see a starry-eyed girl ripped from her family. Sansa sent a little prayer that the hosts receiving Myrcella were kind to her.

 

To her surprise, neither Joffrey or the Queen paid her any mind. For once, she felt like any other nameless women who joined the court. A pretty little background character, there was safety in that.

 

She walked alongside the rest of the ladies as the royal company made their way back to the castle. There little band of women were tense and silent as they walked through the heckling crowd.

 

_Hail Joffrey!_

_Please your grace, we’re hungry!_

_Bastard King!_

Sansa tried to avoid looking out at the angry crowd but they were everywhere. Resentful men and women wearing dirtied roughspun clothing, scowling down at the court. Scowling down at her.

 

They all hated her for being associated with the King’s family. They hated her for her fine clothes and elegant hair. They hated her for her full stomach and luxurious life. And she couldn’t blame them. They were suffering because of the King, you could see it from looking at them. But she was also suffering from him, you just couldn’t see it in her appearance.

 

The heckles grew louder and louder until Sansa saw something fly across the crowd and hit Joffrey in the face. The hiss of metal swords being unsheathed clutched Sansa’s heart as the tension broke into utter chaos.

 

She faintly heard Joffrey yelling ahead, angry at the crowd. The ladies next to Sansa began to clutch at her arms, the look of unprepared terror flashing in their eyes. They were frozen in fear, and as Sansa tried to move to get away from the panic, the ladies anchored her to the spot.

 

“Please! You have to keep moving!” Sansa shouted at the two women. Not waiting for a response Sansa began to move again, this time she was able to tow the ladies with her. Their hands were flying up wildly trying to protect their faces from the terror that had erupted in the streets. Sansa was only focused on her feet in front of her, trying her best to avoid the fallen men. When the crowd began to narrow and sweaty bodies pushed at Sansa’s side the women let go of her arms and started to push her in the panic.

 

Sansa willed herself to stay upright, if she fell she would die for sure. The crowd would trample her in seconds. Without the women hanging onto her, Sansa maneuvered her way through the riot eyes still on her feet. Her only thought was to get away, and quickly.

 

As she made her way to the edge of the crowd, Sansa was stopped by a large dirty arm. The man who the arm belonged to was staring hungrily at her. She turned quickly searching the crowd for an opening she could run through only to see another man cornering her.

 

A hand swiped at her barely missing her arm. Panicked, she ran through a corridor in the wall. She didn’t know where it leads, she didn’t know anything in the moment except that she had to get _away._

 

Down the dark corridor the roaring of the right crept away. Beyond her deafening heartbeat Sansa could only hear the chuckles of the men chasing her. So she kept running.

 

Ahead of her Sansa only saw stonewalls. No passage towards escape no other places to hide.

 

_Be brave._

 

She turned towards one of the men chasing her and with all the strength in her body she struck him across the cheek. She recognized the stinging of her palm for only a moment before the man’s counterstrike beat her face to the floor.

 

She felt arms grabbing her. Sansa clawed her fingers into the hay, fighting for her body to escape.

 

The heavy weight of a body pinned her down and two meaty hands stilled her arms. She felt the crass trickle of breath at her ear as the man leaned down to whisper

 

“You ever been fucked little girl?” He hissed.

 

Too quickly the horde had her on her back. She tried to kick but stronger arms held her legs and pushed them apart. She tried to rise from the floor but two hands seized her by the arms.

 

“ _Please”_ tore through her throat as she writhed against the grips holding her down. One of them began to settle between her thighs, Sansa watched as he struggled with his breeches. When she felt something heavy against her she couldn’t stop the tears from spilling.

 

Then it was gone. Sansa lifted her neck with all the effort left in her body and saw her attacker floating in the air. She heard the sick wet sound of skin being sliced open and then saw as his guts spilled over on the floor before being tossed aside as she got a glimpse of her saviour.

 

_The Hound._

 

With his dagger in hand he made quick work of the man holding her legs, stabbing him ruthlessly in the back. The man at her arms took the opportunity to try and run away, but the Hound grabbed him and pushed him to the floor. With his back towards Sansa, he knelt before the pleading man and raised his fist and drove it down.

 

On impact the fierce crack of bone filled the room. He raised his fist again to hit the man. Then again and again.

 

At first Sansa could hear sick spluttering as the man tried to breathe but was choked down by his own blood. When it stopped she knew the man must be dead. But that didn’t end the Hounds aggression.

 

Sansa didn’t know how much longer she could watch, “He’s dead! You can stop now!” She pushed the words out ignoring the raw stinging of her throat. The Hound paused, his bloody fist still hanging in the air. Slowly he lowered his hand back to his side. He was still staring at the dead man before him. Tempting himself to continue. Sansa saw the hesitation and whispered “Please.”

 

Rigidly he stood up from his kneeling position and faced her. She gasped at the hideous sight. His face was painted red from the blood spatter. His eyes were wide from the bloodlust and as he breathed in his nostrils flared out. He looked more beast than man.

 

He stared down at her and Sansa should have been afraid. She should’ve tried to stand and run away from the murderous man in front of him. But she stayed still and held onto his eyes as the tears continued to pour from hers.

 

His breathing became slower and he abandoned her gaze for only a moment before raising his hand towards her. Sansa flinched from the putrid smell of blood that covered the hand he offered.

 

“Little bird…” _Please_

 

She could hear the plea from his raspy whisper. Slowly she raised a shaky hand to meet his bloody one. She felt the oozing squish as he tightened the grip between their hand and lifted her from the ground and onto his shoulders. With one strong hand holding onto her and the other on his sword he marched back into the crowd.

 

Sansa crushed her eyes shut as he led them threw the chaos and finally into safety. She was soon being lowered, surprisingly gently, to the ground. Finally, Sansa opened her eyes. The Hound was inches away from her face and staring at a spot above her eyes. Carefully he raised his clean hand and brushed it softly against her forehead. Narrowing his eyes during the inspection.

 

When his eyes met hers again they were hardened. Stiffly he rose from her side, and she felt soft hands holding her shoulders. She looked to see the women from court checking her over. They were saying something but Sansa couldn’t make out their words, she was still entranced by the man standing beside her.

 

“Little birds bleeding,” He announced gruffly and pointed towards her forehead “Someone see to that cut.”

 

The women nodded around her and he turned away to head back into the rioting crowd, sword clenched in his fist.

 

Sansa saw him violently cut down two men before she had to look away.

 

 


End file.
